


Invisible

by MidnightEternal



Category: Klaus (2019)
Genre: Abuse isn't only physical, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Flirting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by Music, Lydia's spirit, M/M, Protective Klaus, Rise of the Guardians (2012) References, Self-Indulgent, Sick Jesper, Sickfic, Sleep, Sleep Deprivation, Soft™
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29483946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightEternal/pseuds/MidnightEternal
Summary: There's more to Jesper than meets the eye. Beyond his dramatic nature, we see a young man who cares about the people around him. Enter Klaus, who is slowly healing from his loss, and realises that Jesper isn't very good at looking after himself.This is a story of love being found in the most unlikely places.Inspired by Invisible - Zara Larsson from the Klaus (2019) soundtrack.
Relationships: Jesper Johanssen & Klaus, Jesper Johanssen/Klaus
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	1. Lie Awake

Another long week of ever-lasting icy water constantly seeping into his bones, soaking the cloth of a uniform that he never thought he'd feel good about wearing.

The unforgiving wind blows another chill his way, and he curses whatever person decided that building a settlement this far north would be any kind of plan.

He's frozen. All these late nights and early mornings spin a tale of exhaustion that flurries down on him like the daily snowfall. This isn't just being cold anymore, something else is afoot. The bags under his eyes could hold a full sack of Klaus' gifts and have room to spare.

A blossoming sunrise catches across the sky, painting a rainbow of colours over Smeerenburg and its inhabitants. They finished their nightly delivery just in time; more children than ever putting in requests to the "awesome" and "magical" Klaus.

The wind blows again as he steps from the carriage turned sleigh. The hand he keeps on the edge of the wood is the only thing keeping him from falling over right there and then.

Every part of him aches from weeks without rest. He doesn't know how much longer he can do this. Tears burn somewhere in the back of his eyes, but he hasn't cried in years and this won't be the thing that breaks him. He's just a little...

_Tired._

It takes moments for him to realise that he's been staring at the ground for far too long. Klaus' cabin is so far away.

The man, himself, appears in his line of sight. An expression on his bearded face that he doesn't think he's ever seen directed his sorry way. Not to the boy who had everything. Everything but the love he so desperately craved. Lash out, act the fool, play the part. Anything to be noticed. Just once, once, just to be looked at with more than contempt-

But oh, is Klaus speaking to him? The statuesque toymaker towers over him, just a few steps away. His mouth is moving but what...

He pushes away from the sleigh, hoping to wave off what Klaus is saying, feed the reindeer, and go back to the Post Office as soon as he physically can. The longer he stays still, the worse he'll get. The all-encompassing cloak of fatigue is one he wears with sarcasm and a smile.

Yet, he miscalculates. He takes one step and the snow-filled horizon tilts on its axis, taking his vision with it. Black spots appear suddenly, there's a ringing in his ears, and for the first time in days, he feels warm. Too warm. Sweat gathers across his chest and neck, yet he's wracked with tremors.

He expected to fall into the snowdrift. He did not expect to fall against the sturdy surface of Klaus' torso and feel the man's strong arm wrap around his shoulders to keep him upright and steady.

"Jesper?"

The call is so quiet it reminds him of when they first started working together. A giant of few words, but strong enough to hold steady in the face of so much. It's all he can do to let a muffled groan out against Klaus' chest.

He can't move. This is it, he's going to perish here in the embrace of the best man he's ever met. Well, there are certainly worse ways to go.

The chest he's resting against rises and falls in uneven waves as Klaus chuckles. Damn, did he say that out loud?

"Yes, but you're fine. Can you look at me?"

And who is he to deny Klaus anything?

It takes more strength than he thought he had to give. Klaus slipped his spare hand under his chin, and he is so, so warm against the chill of the air. The weight of the woodsman's touch moves to cup his cheek and angle his head up so their eyes can meet.

"Come here often?" He jests, stuttering out the words, but his heart is not in the flirtation. The world is spinning and he's sure his eyes just started rolling back for a second.

"Hush, let me look at you," and Klaus does, lightly moving his head with one huge palm still resting against his flushed cheek.

His friend (just a friend?) hums, low and unhappy. Jesper would do anything to make sure he was never unhappy again.

The hand moves from his cheek, the back of it coming to rest on his forehead. He sags into the touch, almost losing his footing again.

"I've got you. Your temperature is a little high. Have you been looking after yourself?"

The question confuses him, and his face must say as much to Klaus. The other man raises a dark brow at him.

"When did you last eat? Sleep?"

"Uhh... Yesterday, I think?" He's truthfully not sure.

"Yesterday as in the evening just passed or the day before that?" Klaus purposefully gestures towards the sunrise.

"Oh," he starts, as if the passing of another day hadn't occurred to him. "Day before."

Klaus sighs, and it's a heavy thing.

"And sleep?"

He looks down, suddenly ashamed. "It's... It's been a while."

"More than two days?" Asks the woodsman.

Jesper nods, biting at his bottom lip to give him something else to focus on. He can't help but feel he's disappointed Klaus, and that's somehow worse that anything else he's ever done.

He isn't expecting it when Klaus picks him up like a babe. Who would? Nonetheless, he clings to the built upper body of the first man he's called a friend and lets himself be carried across the snow towards the warmth of the cabin. 

And it is so beautifully warm when they cross the threshold. He can feel his body react to the temperature change: His small tremors become full shakes and shivers. He can barely stay still, teeth chattering so uncontrollably that he almost bites his tongue.

Klaus wastes no time in putting him down on the couch that rests in front of the fire. It used to just be the single armchair there, but the more Jesper visited, the more things moved around to seemingly accommodate him.

Klaus stokes the fire, bringing it back to life from its fading ashes, before moving to kneel in front of him. Thankfully, he's not too close to his knees, which are practically banging together from the force of his shakes. He's reached his limit, and even he can recognise that.

Huge hands come towards him and he flinches back out of habit. Klaus runs his palm over his cheek, soothing away the distress. The man reaches up, removing the hat from his head and setting it aside. Next, his strong fingers unclasp the deep blue cloak he wears, leaving him in the rest of his uniform.

Jesper attempts to help Klaus undress him. Now that they're inside, he can feel every soaked patch of fabric against his skin sending shocks up and down his spine. The buttons of his jacket are too difficult for his trembling hands, but Klaus still allows him time to try before tenderly pushing his hands down.

"Rest. I can do this for you."

He's always been in awe of how the man makes each of his few words so impactful. Just seven short words and Jesper wants to weep in relief. Something heavy in his chest unlocks and the breath he releases feels like coming home.

Klaus is so careful as he pulls the jacket off of him. The fire's warmth is lulling him into a sweet state, half-lidded eyes just waiting for the opportunity to close.

He doesn't remember his boots or trousers being removed, leaving him in the thermal underlayer he works in, arms bare to the cold but legs covered. The fire is quickly drying out the thinner fabric, and he closes his eyes in bliss.

At some point, he'd slipped down the back of the couch. No longer sitting upright, he lays reclined against the cushions of the plush furnishing. A thick blanket is waved over him, fluttering down to settle across his tired body with a flourish.

The noise that escapes his lips is something like a prayer, but to a deity named Klaus. Every muscle in his body relaxes, allowing him to sink into the cushions further.

Klaus is above him when he opens his eyes, not entirely certain when he allowed them to close. There's a vessel in his hand that resembles a fine tea cup, yet it was patiently and skillfully carved from wood. If Jesper were more firmly on this plain of existance, he'd admire it further.

He feels himself be raised from the back of the couch ever so slightly. Just enough to ensure he doesn't choke on the cup of tea that Klaus presses to his dried out lips. Chamomile. The hand at his back keeps him from spilling the tea, but it also provides an unspoken amount of comfort.

Once he's taken a long draft of the tea, Klaus sets it on the nearby table and takes a seat beside him. One muscled arm finds its way over his shoulders and he can't resist the urge to shuffle closer to the new heat source at his side. 

Eyes at half-mast, he gazes up at the toymaker, the bringer and keeper of childhood wonder.

"Thank you," is all he can manage, his words slurred with the beginnings of overdue sleep.

Klaus shakes his head, not quite rejecting his gratitude, but indicating that it's unnecessary. "Sleep, Jesper. You're exhausted."

That logical part of his brain kicks in, realising where he is, how vulnerable he's letting himself be. Klaus, ever-diligent, picks up on it from just the furrow of his brow.

"You're fine right here where I can keep an eye on you." 

As if to make his statement stronger, Klaus tugs him down until he's laying with his golden head in the woodsman's lap. 

It's the petting that puts him to sleep, he swears. He can't remember the last time he spent the night next to someone who cared about him when he was sick or tired. 

Or, perhaps it's the soft singing that rumbles from Klaus' chest. 

Either way, he lets his exhaustion drag him under, and Klaus' voice keeps him from falling too deep. 

_"How many nights do you lie awake in the darkest place?"_


	2. Darker Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesper wakes up and Lydia approves of their budding love.

He wakes up with cotton in his mouth and a stiff ache in his extremities, but he's warm. The glow of the fire dances across his skin, casting faint honey and amber highlights that twist and turn with the shadows of the room. He gets a sense that it's still daylight outside, though his eyes could not confirm that as truth because he, quite frankly, does not want to open them and face the obstacles of the world right after passing out against his woodsman's leg. 

The lack of sunlight burning against his closed eyes is telling. For as long as he's known him and been welcomed into his home, Klaus has kept the cabin dark. He prefers the soft flickers of candlelight and the cozy ambience of his log fire. When Klaus retreats outside to chop wood and sling birdhouses into the local trees, he basks in the snow's reflection of the sun - but indoors, he has made this cabin a home that was never meant for just one person. 

Jesper can admit that he adores Klaus' cabin more than a bit. There's something to be said for trading silk sheets and too-large windows for soft blankets and a spot by the fire. That something makes him wish he could make that trade permanently and claim this exact seat of the couch as his own so that he can rest against Klaus and steal his warmth for the rest of their days but... 

Well, it's just a rich boy's fantasy, right? 

He's awake enough to depress himself, so he's awake enough to realise that Klaus' hand is no longer sweeping through his hair or lightly scritching at his scalp. His head isn't raised on one thick and strong thigh, and the humming, the singing, has long faded into the air. Somehow, the notes of the melody stick with him, even though he's fairly certain he fell asleep within seconds of Klaus starting the song. 

He pushes himself up with a grimace, feeling every ache come to life with a vengeance. The blanket, which is the softest thing he's ever had wrapped around him, falls from where it was tucked around his shoulders, revealing an oversized knitted jumper that he doesn't remember being put on his body last night. 

It's almost comically big, the way it pools around his frame, slipping fully off one shoulder as he sits up with his legs curled underneath him. It's a deep red in colour, and the scent of Klaus is held in the very fibres of each knot of yarn. He imagines that it would easily fall to mid-thigh if he were to stand, but, alas, standing is not on the cards as if yet. 

Between the cushion that had obviously replaced Klaus' leg, the thick blanket, and the soft jumper, Jesper is on the verge of tearing up again. One selfless act, indeed. Klaus' whole person is selfless. By that logic, everything he does should spark another act of kindness. 

In this town, Jesper would have never thought it possible for the people to be kind. He'd said as much. But Klaus is, well, he's magical. 

There's a half-damp cloth lying on the pillow, next to where his head was moments ago. It must have slipped off while he was dragging himself back to the land of the living. 

A metallic clang from the kitchen echoed across the cabin. It wasn't loud by any means, but with the cabin adrift in comfortable silence, Jesper could have heard a pin drop. Concern for his friend forced him to his feet, but perhaps standing needed more energy than he had. 

As he rose from the couch, leaving the warming blanket behind and feeling the length of the knitted jumper fall down his slight hips, dizziness took a hold of him. He remained silent through the ringing in his ears and the spotting of his slight, but he was not prepared for his knees to crash against the ground when his body refused to stay upright. His legs trembled and his head ached something fierce. He put all of his effort into not passing out on Klaus' floor. 

He was swept up off of the floor without any warning. Klaus' recognisable hands supporting his fatigued self, always offering a sense of safety but never asking anything in return. 

"I'm here," Klaus murmured, settling Jesper back onto the couch with such ease that it was like he'd just picked up a toy rather than a fully grown man. His large hand found its way back into golden locks, fingers threading through the strands. "What happened?" 

"Heard-" Jesper swallowed, taking note of his sore throat and the tight sensation that made itself known. "Heard a bang, wanted to check on you." 

"I'm fine, just finishing up a light soup for you. I didn't mean to startle you."

"Pssh, me? Startled? I-" 

Klaus interrupted Jesper's usual tirade by placing the back of his loosely curled hand against the postman's cheek. Displeasure sounds in the back of his throat; though the wide-eyed, flushed, and breathless expression on Jesper's face as his big, brown eyes flick over to his hand was more than he was expecting. 

Jesper lightly sucked on his bottom lip, biting at the skin before releasing it. Klaus' cheeks gained a healthy red tone at the sight, his eyes never straying from Jesper's mouth during the movement. The toymaker coughed lightly, taking his hand away from Jesper's fade. 

"You have a-" 

"So, what's wrong with-" 

They spoke at the same time, cutting each other off, both immediately looking embarrassed. Jesper rubbed the back of his neck with a shy smile. 

"Sorry, you were saying?" He said, looking up at Klaus. 

Klaus' soft, indulgent smile tugged at Jesper's heart. 

"You have a fever, I didn't want to wake you until the soup was ready. You need to eat something light until you've got your strength back."

"Aww, you're taking care of me," Jesper grinned. 

Klaus picks up the cloth and submerges it in a bowl of water that'd been left on the floor. Wringing it out firmly, he returns his attention to Jesper, lightly dabbing the cool cloth over his skin.

"You're... Actually taking care of me. I don't- I don't remember the last time-" Jesper cuts himself off, shame making a home in the pit of his stomach.

Klaus brushes back the few locks of Jesper's hair that occasionally fall in front of his eyes. That same hand slips down to cup his cheek under the guise of keeping the postman's head still while he continues leaving a trail of cool water across his forehead and down to his other cheek.

"I would take care of you even if you weren't run down. It's not in me to watch you suffer. I only wish you'd said something before this morning, having you collapse on me gave me a bit of a fright."

Jesper leans into Klaus' touch. "I think that's the most I've ever heard you say at once."

Klaus huffed a laugh at the memory those words stirred. "Do you feel like eating? It's nothing heavy, I promise."

Jesper's expressive brown eyes gazed at him. He seemed to ponder the question for a small amount of time before giving a single nod. 

"I can handle something small, I trust you." 

And wasn't that just everything Klaus didn't know he needed to hear? 

The woodsman placed the cloth over the side of the bowl and stood. He looked down at Jesper, who looked so young with his bashful expression and the knitted jumper burying him in its warmth. 

"I'll be right back," Klaus announced. He began to walk away but stopped and looked back at Jesper. "Don't move, you're fine right there."

The easy banter between them was familiar and welcome. The soft touches, too. Perhaps they were more intimate now, in a way, but neither of them could find it in themselves to put a stop to it. 

Jesper shook his head. Why would he want to stop this when he's never felt so close to someone? So... Dare he say, loved? 

But there was still some darkness in this house that was keeping it from becoming a home again. A blackness that takes the form of an empty family tree turned memorial to a lost loved one. How dare he try to take her place? 

He turned his attention to the fluttering curtains that would usually show a view of Klaus' workshop nestled in the snow. They blew apart quite suddenly, allowing him to see the dark extension that held all of the joy they brought to the town's children. Despite the lack of light, there was still a warm feeling stirring in his bones as he continued staring at it. There were no lights on in the large room, but the echo of smoke from the chimney told him that Klaus had been in there recently. 

The thought of the other man alone in that room didn't sit right with him. A chill broke through from outside, white wisps of snow and wind dancing into Klaus' living room and moving towards him as if they had a mind of their own. The snow twirled around him, yet it wasn't cold. It felt... Warm. Happy. He didn't understand. 

Klaus stopped in the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room and watched Lydia's echo move around Jesper's head. The younger man had closed his eyes to the feeling - a feeling of warmth he knew all too well. 

Lydia departed as quickly as she came, brushing by Klaus as she went. The love he felt from her then, well, it told him everything he needed to know, and had the answer to everything he'd never ask. 

Jesper breathed deeply from where he reclined against the couch cushions, his face soft and serene. 

Lydia left them with a laugh. Yes, she liked him. He was good for Klaus, and Klaus was good for him. She'd watch over both of her boys. 

_"How many days do you shed the pain of your darker days?"_


	3. A Couple Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesper finally gets his croutons. Klaus realises something.

Tray in hand, Klaus returns to Jesper's side. The younger man blinks open his eyes as Klaus approaches, the soft smile tugging at his lips grows just a touch wider. 

Klaus moves the pillow out of the way, knowing that Jesper would likely be able to stay awake for an hour or two after eating. His recovery looks as though it will be quick. After all, he's seen the postman bounce back from falling off a number of tall ladders and escaping packs full of angry dogs. 

He passes the lap tray to Jesper, whose eyes immediately widen at the sight of homemade soup and very familiar pieces of baked, toasty bread. 

"Did... Did you make croutons?" 

Klaus hums in confirmation. "You've ranted about them enough that I assumed you were fond of them. I'm not quite sure why, they're only toasted bread," he hushes the protests of the glory of soup and croutons before it can begin to escape Jesper's mouth. "They weren't hard to make and you like them. I didn't see a reason not to add them to your soup."

"It's a lot of effort, though," Jesper bashfully replies. 

Klaus shakes his head. "It truly wasn't, Jesper. Chopping wood all winter is effort — this was an extra ten minutes in the kitchen."

"Oh," Jesper lets out, cocoa-coloured eyes wide, full of disbelief. "Uh, thank you...? My father hasn't ever bothered to remember how much I like them, so this is really — Well, really kind," he stutters over his words, cheeks growing warmer. "I know it seems like a simple thing, but my... My mom always made croutons and soup in winter. She practically insisted upon it." 

"It sounds like she cared about you very much."

Jesper lets out a single laugh. It isn't sharp, like a laugh of self-deprecation, or the kind of sound someone makes when another person says something funny. It's tinged with sadness. 

"She did," Jesper places a spoonful of soup in his mouth, swallows, and smiles. "You know, Alva reminds me a lot of her."

Klaus leans back into the couch's softness. "How so?" 

Another mouthful is swallowed before Jesper replies. The soup brings a fresh warmth to his face, already working its magic. "Strong, independant, no-nonsense. She was the only person who could keep my dad's priorities straight. I was a better person when she was still with us."

"She would be proud of you and what you're doing."

Jesper lowers his hand, spoon held loosely between his thumb and forefinger. "You think so?" 

A wistful exhale leaves Klaus, his large chest rising and falling noticeably. "Yes," he replies, standing from the couch with a great heave of his body. 

There's silence for a few moments while Klaus moves forward to tend to the fire. When the logs start to crackle again and burn brighter than they were, he speaks once more, tone low and soft. 

"If nothing else, for all that it matters, I know that I am," he clears his throat, clearly embarrassed. "Proud of you, I mean."

There's a beat of quiet while the air goes still. The noise from the spoon Jesper was holding falling against the bowl is akin to listening to the first strike of thunder during rainfall. 

And then, so, so quiet that the sound was almost swallowed by the pop and crackle of the fireplace, the hitch of a half-breath caught between a sob and a jailed word; latched away behind tightly closed lips. 

Klaus whipped around, eyes wide and frantic as he momentarily took in the sight of Jesper's distraught expression. The postman's eyes brimming with tears, a hand tightly clasped over his mouth as if to force his jaw shut. No other vocalisations left his throat except the strangled sobs he tried to choke down. 

Leaping up, Klaus cleared the distance between them in milliseconds, moving to kneel haphazardly at Jesper's feet while a trickle of tears dripped from his friend's eyes. 

"Sorry," Jesper croaked out. "Sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm— I'm—" 

Klaus gently moved the soup away — almost finished, he noted — and took Jesper's free hand in his. He didn't hush him or silence him, just sat there, waiting. Jesper coughed lightly, his throat no doubt dry and feeling thick. 

Jesper looked as though he was trying to force himself to stop crying. Klaus couldn't ignore the sheer despair laced into the tight lines of his face, nor could he look away from the tears now slowly coming to a halt. He didn't know what to do. 

"I'm just tired, I'm... I'm alright. Just tired. Forgive me."

Jesper's voice, usually so exuberant, was shaky and full of breathy pauses as he spoke. Crying had made his face more drawn, pulling the deep circles beneath his eyes into sharp contrast with his flushed, red cheeks and blood-pale lips. 

The postman had lowered his other hand, allowing Klaus to take both of them in his, dwarfing them with his larger size. 

"You don't need to apologise, Jesper," Klaus rumbled, voice low, soothing. 

The gasp of air Jesper let out in response was enough to tell Klaus that this had been a long time coming. His postman's posture slowly bent until he was curled over their joined hands. Klaus could feel the heat from Jesper's brow, the slight dryness to his skin from the fever. A lock of his honey-yellow hair falling out of place to brush against Klaus' skin. With a slight movement, he encouraged Jesper to do whatever he needed to feel comfortable, and seconds later, the other man's face was firmly buried against his open palms, having been pulled closer by Jesper's smaller hands, holding them tightly to the postman's own face. 

For all intents and purposes, Jesper was hiding, and that was equally adorable and worrying. Klaus never wanted Jesper to hide what he was feeling when they were together. He wanted to know everything that made him happy, everything that made him laugh so hard that he broke the front he puts on around the village. He wanted to know Jesper's sorrows, wanted to be the one who listened and then made his postman smile again. 

... Oh. _Oh_. He had fallen for Jesper. 

This was no passing thing, no light crush that came from watching Jesper interact with every child in the village and know how to make each of their little faces light up in joy. This was far past the realm of just liking the man that forced him out of his cabin and back out into the world after years of isolation. This... This was a tender feeling. Not infatuation or a simple inclination towards Jesper. 

This was love. Love, for this man who had crashed into his life. Love, for a man who had worked so much that he had given up food and sleep and exhausted himself to illness. Love, for a man who, in that state, had no strength left to give. 

And Klaus couldn't sit here and watch him silently cry because of good memories or something so simple as another person being proud of him. 

Despite Jesper's almost iron-tight grip on his hands, he managed to manoeuvre them enough to cup just underneath Jesper's jaw and smoothly stroke across his cheek bones with his thumbs, wiping away some of the tears that had fallen. 

"It's alright. Don't hide from me if you need to cry. Whether they're sad tears or happy ones. I'm here."

Jesper's sniffled, even as he smiled at the toymaker. And though Klaus loved that smile, he'd prefer it without the added tears. 

Some time passed, with Jesper sagging against Klaus' hands as though they were the only thing keeping him upright. Jesper's hands had migrated upwards — his right clasped against the back of Klaus' hand against the right of his face, while the other had grabbed at the woodsman's wrist. The sleeves of the borrowed knitwear had bunched around Jesper's arms, their too-large size made obvious by Jesper's thin wrists. 

Like this, they could stare into each other's eyes, take in the subtle details of one another's faces. 

"Feeling better?" Klaus rumbled. 

Jesper nodded against Klaus' hand, basking in the feel of the other man's rougher skin against his own. "Yes. Sorry again, I'm tired and it's making me a little emotional."

"Seems perfectly normal to me. You needn't apologise for it, Jesper. You're ill and exhausted. No one expects you to be perfect."

"No one here, anyway," Jesper whispered, downcast expression firmly in place. But, suddenly, there was determination, the kind of look Jesper gets when he's solving a problem. "Not to change the subject but, is the sweater yours?" 

He flicked his eyes down towards the bunched up sleeves of red kitted threads. 

Candy-apple red lit up Klaus' cheeks while he cleared his throat. "Yes, it's one of mine. I... You were shivering in your sleep..." 

The way Jesper looked at him in that moment felt like watching the sun rise at dawn. The postman smiled, a small and genuine thing, and he felt the warmth of the world's light dance across his skin. 

"Thank you, Klaus. I appreciate it — I appreciate all of this," he laughs then, something broken and unfitting of Klaus' sun. "You could have just sent me on my way, after all -" 

"I would never," Klaus interrupts, immediately stiffening as his brain catches up with his mouth. 

Jesper swipes at his eye. "You're going to make me cry again, I already have a headache. Why are you such a good person?" 

Klaus would forever berate himself for the next thing he did, but he just couldn't help it. Leaning forward, he places a quick kiss to Jesper's warm forehead. 

"It's no less than you deserve, sunshine."

_"All I know is: If happy lives a mile away, a couple steps is all it takes."_


End file.
